


This Will Make You Love Again

by killeleanor



Category: Amazing Spider-Man (2012)
Genre: M/M, self-consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killeleanor/pseuds/killeleanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt on the Spiderman kink meme:</p><p>Dr. Connors is really self-conscious about his lost arm, he rejects any minimal touch and gets uncomfortable when persistent looks come into play. I'd like to see how this would affect his personal relationships, but whatever the author!anon comes up with is fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Will Make You Love Again

**Author's Note:**

> This probably doesn't fit excellently with the comic book canon, as I've gone mostly on what I know from the film where we don't get much backstory on Connors, so just take it as it is. Maybe I'll do some proper research next time.
> 
> Also, check out this [artwork](http://rosenregen.tumblr.com/post/40264056820/this-will-make-you-love-again-curtis) by [rosenregen](http://rosenregen.tumblr.com/); it makes me day to look at it!
> 
> ALSO, this has been translated into Chinese and is available [here](http://www.mtslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=92618).

The day Curt Connors lost his arm was the day he realised he could never have a normal relationship again. As soon as he returned to his laboratory he noticed people were looking at him differently, and not because of his long absence. Sympathetic whispers seemed to follow him around, spiking tension through his body, and on the rare occasions someone did decide to make eye contact with him it was strained and minimal. People’s gazes ended up drifting to the ceiling or their own feet during conversation, though he supposed it could have been worse; it was better, at least, than them gawping slack-jawed at the empty space where his arm should have hung.

There had been a brief time where he’d let the sleeve of his shirt or labcoat flop loosely at his side in some semblance of his missing appendage, and there had been some times when people seemed to forget there was nothing filling it, addressing him normally, but more often than not it had just drawn in even more unwanted attention. Besides, it had caught on fire one too many times for him to feel comfortable continuing, hence the inevitable decision to keep the sleeve rolled up and accept that people would always look at him as if he were some sort of mutant. He almost wished he were; at least that would justify their stares.

Even as months and eventually years passed by, nothing seemed to change except that his research into reptile genetics was spurred on. It was something that would one day help him – he was _convinced_ – to be normal again. And it was a distraction from everyone else. Even now, he flinched if someone touched him, be it a sympathetic or congratulatory pat on the back or just being jostled in a crowd. He didn’t mind administering physical contact too much, tapping someone on the shoulder to attract their attention or shaking hands when absolutely necessary, but disliked being on the receiving end. Perhaps it was because he felt unworthy of the well-meant gestures or perhaps it was because he felt they were spawned from pity above all else.

But then _he_ came along. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something different about Peter Parker. He wasn’t even phased that the doctor was missing an arm, interacting with him as if there were nothing wrong. Usually, he dreaded the yearly influx of new interns, but before he even knew who the boy was and what that meant, he was feeling optimistic. Above all, as he learned that this was the son of his best friend who was weaving himself into Curt’s life, he could have sworn he picked up on flickers of attraction and stunted attempts at flirtation from the boy. _Don’t be ridiculous_ , he told himself. _You’re just a pervert who’s been starved of gratifying human interaction for too long. You’re imagining this because you’re so lonely._

Despite this, he found that Peter’s visits to his lab were becoming more and more frequent. “I have a free period,” he’d claim, or, “I was in the neighbourhood…” It didn’t take Curt long to stop believing him, and even less time to stop insisting he go back to school or back home. Peter persisted that he would rather be here than anywhere else, and if Curt was honest that was what he preferred as well. Peter had long since stopped fabricating excuses as to why he was here, which usually pertained to his interest in scientific research, and would more often than not bring fresh coffee and doughnuts for the two of them, or occasionally some of his Aunt May’s leftover cooking. It had become something of a routine, a routine they were both reluctant to break.

“You look like him, you know,” Curt mused one afternoon. “Your father. Something about the contours of your face.”

He raised his hand slowly to Peter’s face. It was like an experiment, to see if he’d move away, see if he’d allow this contact. The teen made no attempt to shift, and the doctor found himself amazed by how good it felt to feel someone’s flesh beneath his palm like that. He didn’t expect Peter to raise his hand to cover Curt’s own, gripping onto it to prevent him from hastily withdrawing his touch.

“Peter…” he warned, anxious about where this could go, what it could lead to. Peter lowered their hands to his lap, not relinquishing his grasp.

“You don’t let people get close to you,” he stated.

“They don’t want to,” Curt spat, surprised at the anger that had riled up inside him. “They don’t even look at me. All they see is this.” He jerked his head bitterly at his stump of an arm.

“That’s not true! I want to. T-to get close to you,” Peter stammered. Curt noticed his closed eyes and flushed face, how his spare fist was clenched and his body was tense. “If you’ll let me.”

The doctor was taken aback. Apparently he hadn’t been misreading the cues Peter had been sending him after all. He surveyed the awkward, fumbling teenage boy before him who, despite everything, had never looked more sincere.

“You don’t mean that.” A chance to stand down, to take everything back.

“Yes, I _do_.” Peter opened his eyes to look pleadingly at Curt. “You’re so much better- you’re so much more than you think you are. I don’t care what other people think. I don’t care about this.” He placed his left hand on the doctor’s right shoulder, not straying any lower because he knew it would make the other man feel uncomfortable. Even so, his body had become tense and Peter bit down on his lip, braced for rejection, wondering if he’d made a mistake or gone too far.

Curt knew this was a bad idea, that Peter was just a confused boy searching for a father figure, but part of him was screaming that Peter was right, that he needed some form of affection and Peter was the only one who could give it to him, the only one who had looked past what everyone else was put off by and made him feel like a human being again.

He closed his eyes in defeat or acceptance and nodded as Peter flung himself into a hug he wished he could fully reciprocate. As if sensing this, Peter’s embrace tightened and he buried his face in the older man’s neck as if trying to breathe him in, overwhelming him in the possible way.

This was hardly the normal relationship Curt had dreamt about but was sure he’d never attain, but it was something special; something better.

**Author's Note:**

> I have ideas for a porn sequel, but can't promise anything! Hope you liked this. It's named after a song by IAMX, found [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B1e9MrkN2XE) which was in my head as I wrote it.


End file.
